


Dipsophobia

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead has PTSD from when his dad was an alcoholic, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective FP Jones II, fp didnt mean to scar his kids but he did, growing up in an abusive household, he just doesnt know it yet, he's trying his best, jughead has good friends who love and support him, not that big but i definitely ignored season 3 lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 05:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19761097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dipsophobia: an abnormal and persistent fear of drinking, usually brought on by the fear of becoming an alcoholic.or,Jughead is afraid of becoming his father and doesn't know how to live with it.





	Dipsophobia

**Author's Note:**

> first of all: thank you for clicking on this lol  
> second: howdy, my name is clementine! uh, this is my first fanfiction in a really long time. it's been about five or six years since i wrote something like this, so please keep that in mind while you read this! i'm hoping to regain my passion for writing, and this is just the beginning. 
> 
> i won't bore you any longer lol.

Jughead hates the smell of alcohol. It’s almost like he’s allergic to stuff, considering his body has a physical reaction to just the smell alone. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton; his hands and arms feel numb. His legs shake. His stomach spins with nausea, while his ears ring with what sounds like his parents fighting. 

Growing up witnessing substance abuse from the two people who you love and respect the most, really messes with your head, he learned. Trust is lost, bonds break, and feelings hurt. 

The brunette learned that, sometimes, people with addiction, love their addiction more than their own family members. Not always, but whenever they have a craving, it’s almost like nobody else exists to them. Or, if they do exist, they’re just hindrance; preventing them from getting their sweet release. 

Jughead still has nightmares about his dad. 

His father has come a long way, he really has, but no matter what Jughead does,he cannot shake the feeling of dread that swells up in his stomach. Memories of his father yelling at him, his mother, and baby sister still haunt his nightmares. Rum on an empty stomach does that to him, makes him throw things at walls, break glasses, break promises. 

Memories of bruises from objects being thrown at the wall, that then bounce off onto his skin, never purposefully but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen more than twice. His sister crying, he himself crying. Him being drenched in blood and rum from when his father threw a bottle of rum at him. His mother yelling at his father. Gladys explaining to the lady at the emergency room that he was just messing around the liquor cabinet when a bottle fell down and hit his arm. Stitches at the E.R..

Empty promises of his father claiming that he will be better a man, husband, father. 

Anxiety grows in his stomach whenever his dad is around a drink. When they go grocery shopping and his father takes too long of a look at the liquor aisle. How, whenever his father's buddies come around, they always bring a six pack of beer. His father never indulges himself, never even picks up a drink. But the fear is still there.

Sometimes, Jughead feels guilty whenever he wakes up from a nightmare. Swears he can still smell the rum his dad threw at him. The burning pain that shoots up from his arm that is now covered in blood. Anger written all over his father’s face. Jughead wonders if that look will ever leave his face. 

Rarely, his dreams become even more violent; fueled by the fear of what ifs. What if his father was sincerely aiming at him. What if he wanted Jughead to get hurt.What if he wanted Jughead to suffer. What if he wanted Jughead to die. What if Jughead became exactly like him.

Those nights he wakes up with wails caught in his throat, tears staining his face, and sweat covering his body. Those nights his father runs in, sometimes with a baseball bat and other times not, ready to fight off the monster. Those nights his dad takes one look at him and immediately understands what happened. Those nights FP questions him what his nightmare was about; what or who the big bad monster was. Those nights Jughead lies to his father with Penny hissing through his lips. 

His father promises to protect him, as he wipes off the tears falling down Jughead’s face. That the monster won’t ever get to him again. And Jughead just let’s him; because he doesn’t know how to explain to his father who is trying so hard and loves him so much, that he is the monster. 

He, logically, knows that his dad has sworn off drinking after Jughead’s dance with death. But, he’s sworn off of it in the past too. 

Jughead is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He can’t do this. Honestly, fuck this. Fuck parties in general. What’s so appealing about them anyway? Jughead can’t fathom any reason why people actually enjoy parties. 

Jughead is hiding in a corner of Reggie Mantle’s living room, fingers tight around the sleeve of his hoodie. Betty got him a cup of something that smells like fruit juice and not fruit juice. From how messed up everybody else in the room seems to be, it’s probably vodka or something along the lines. 

Betty left him twenty minutes ago, saying that she was going to go chat with Veronica and Kevin who were residing in the kitchen. She asked if he wanted to go with her, but Jughead just shook his head. He doesn’t think he can move from this spot. 

The beanie clad boy can smell weed coming from somewhere, and it does an awful job of masking the scent of alcohol. Or maybe it’s supposed to be the other way around, Jughead doesn’t know, parties aren’t his scene. He’d rather be anywhere. Especially at a booth at Pop’s with Betty or Archie or Veronica. Hell, maybe even Cheryl. 

He’s shaking at this point, doesn’t know why. Well, he does know why but he doesn’t know how to stop. Relax, it’s just a stupid party. It’s just a drink. Just a drink. 

The smell of vodka coming from his cup takes him to when he was twelve. He was hiding in the bathroom, crying in the bathtub; his parents yelling. His father drinking. The smell of whiskey on his breath. Broken glasses. Jellybean hiding. Trying to rock Jellybean to sleep. Trying to sleep with spilt beer cans on the floor. 

Alcohol all over the fucking house. Staining everything it touched. Ruining everything it touched. Breaking his family apart. Ripping trust to shreds like it was a dog looking for a pillow to destroy. Shattering his trust. 

Waking up in cold sweats, Jughead sometimes swears he can still smell the half finished beer cans laying around the house. Still hear yelling. Still hear crying. Still see red--.

“Are you okay dude?” Interrupted his thoughts. 

He looked up at Toni, who was standing two feet in front of him, with worry in her eyes. Toni continued, “Do you need me to get Archie or Betty?”

Does he need Archie or Betty? He doesn’t know. Jughead just continued to stare at Toni, wondering when she even came up to him. He can’t even remember seeing her at the party when he and Betty arrived. In his defense, the house was packed when they showed up; they walked into the party when it was already in full swing. Strip poker in one of the bedroom’s upstairs. Beer pong in the dining, shot taking in the kitchen, smoking in the closet or outback. Alcohol everywhere--.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out here, Jughead.” Toni puts her hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go grab Betty and Archie okay? Please stop crying, you’re gonna be fine.” And then she’s gone. 

He’s crying. He brings one of his shaking hands to his face to find that Toni was right. When did he start crying? A minute ago? Fifteen? Half an hour? An hour? How long has he been at this party? It feels like he’s been here for forever. What time is it?

Jughead dropped his drink, it’s now spilled on the floor and his converse. He feels like he can’t breathe. Why was he holding a drink? He knows better than that. He knows that he should be better. God, how could he do this to himself. He’s a monster. A monster. 

“Calm down, please Juggie!” Betty. His Betty. She’s here. But she shouldn’t see him. He’ll hurt her, he’ll hurt everybody in his life. Ruin it. 

A hand on his shoulder. “Breathe Jug’, you’re alright.” Archie Andrews in the flesh. God, Jughead will hurt him too. Their friendship has already changed but now this will truly destroy whatever carnage they had. 

“Let’s get him outside, maybe he’ll feel better out there?” Veronica. Jughead feels like record player, but he’ll hurt her too. Even if they’re just new friends, he’ll hurt her. Hurt everybody in his life. He’s despicable.

The brunette feels someone guiding his shoulders whilst someone else takes his hand. Brief flashes of the foyer and hallway, before their outside.   
“Juggie, can you hear me?” Get away before I hurt you. “It’s me, Betty, okay? You’re safe, I just need you to talk to me Jug’.” I’ll hurt you, I’ll hurt you. 

“Okay, deep breaths. You’re having a panic attack Jug’. Deep breaths.” Why won’t they go away?

“You’re safe, we promise. Just, please, breathe.” Safe? Huh, safe? From who?

He hears sobs. Doesn’t know where they’re coming from until he realizes they’re his own. He feels hands cup his face and he sees Betty Cooper staring him right in the eyes. 

“Take deep breaths. You’re alright. You’re safe. Please, Jughead.” 

Deep breaths should be easy right? But they don’t feel easy right now. But he still tries for her, for all of them. 

“There you go, deep breaths.” He can still smell it but it’s masked. Masked by Betty’s apple shampoo, and Archie’s too strong cologne, and Veronica’s expensive perfume. Hides the smell perfectly and suddenly it doesn’t feel like the sky is falling anymore. 

Jughead decides that oxygen is really nice. His lungs burn as he continues to take deep breaths coaxed by Betty. He’s finally breathing--more like wheezing but he’s actually taking in oxygen this time. 

As he’s being grounded, he feels Archie’s hand rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. Notice’s that Veronica has her phone opened to a wikihow page titled “How to Help Your Friend with an Anxiety Attack.” Has to bite back a laugh but can’t hide the smile that goes onto his face.

“What’s so funny Mr. Dark and Gloom?”

“Wikihow.” He can’t say much more than that. His lungs ache and his mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. 

Veronica gives him a fake annoyed look. “Hey! I didn’t know what else to do, okay? You’re dying and I,” she gestures to herself, “took the initiative to look up the proper way to help. Archie would’ve probably given you a tissue and told you to get over it.”

Archie makes an offended sound. “I’m dense but not stupid.”

“Those are kind of the same thing, Arch,” Betty says. 

“How could you betray me too?”

“Ha! Yes, B. Back me up.”

“Hey no, this is not alright. This is not attack Archie hours.”

“I’m sorry, Arch, but sometimes your dumber than a bag of bricks.”

Jughead hears Veronica cackle at Betty’s comments. Encouraging her to ‘drag’ him some more. Archie is making a rebuttal, saying that he isn’t dumb. Betty is trying to say that we still love Archie even though he’s as oblivious as a dog sometimes. 

It feels so normal. Like Jughead wasn’t just choking on air, freaking out at the smell of it. Jughead wonders what he should do now. Say he’s alright? Just get up and start walking it off? Cry again??

“You okay, Jughead?” Archie asks him. 

He looks up to see all their worried stares. 

He feels shame rise up in his stomach. Humiliation causing his cheeks to flush. They’re probably already red from crying, but hey! At least nobody will be able to tell the difference. 

“Hey, you okay Holden Caulfield?” 

Brush it off. It was nothing. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. We can go back. I’m sorry.”

For some reason that just makes them look even more worried. What do they want to hear?

Betty gives him a small smile. “It’s okay, Jug. We don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”

“I already ruined the night so we can just go back in--.”

Veronica steps in. “Don’t worry, that party was lame anyways. Mine are much more fun. Movies and makeovers and all the drinks you could want. Perfecto.”

“Look, I’m fine now so we can just go back in.” No more of it please. No more alcohol. He doesn’t want to be a monster.

“No you’re not Jug.” Archie gives an exasperated sigh. “You just had a full blown panic attack, okay? You look like your about to have another one, too. You’re exhausted. Let’s just go to Pop’s or something.”

“I’m fine okay! Just please--stop I can’t.” Vodka is still on his shoes. His hands are shaking, and he doesn’t know how to make them stop.

“I would like to go to Pop’s. Get some actual food, instead of stale chips. Maybe a chocolate milkshake.” Betty says reassuringly. It just makes Jughead feel weak for some reason. Like he has something he needs to prove. 

“Then it’s settled, to Pop’s we go.” Veronica says already standing up and walking towards Archie’s car. Not taking ‘no’ for an answer so Jughead can’t fight back. “I texted Kevin, said he’s gonna be fine. We can go without him.”

“I’ll start the car!”

Jughead doesn’t know how to feel at this point. He just feels weak. 

Betty cups his face again. “Come on Juggie, let’s go to Pop’s.”

With stuttering kneecaps Jughead gets up and walks with Betty to the car.

Jughead comes to the sad realization that: a burger from Pop’s cannot solve everything, but it comes pretty damn close. Almost makes him and friends forget that they just left a mess of a party. That Jughead’s face is still red with tears. 

Actually, Pop gave a very concerned look whenever he saw the four stroll in with Jughead looking disheveled. Maybe that’s why Pop gave them an extra plate of fries. 

Jughead feels nauseous while he’s eating his burger. They had walked in and sat down in complete silence, only brief murmurs of how good the food is. He can feel the nervous glances they make at him, and the silent conversation the three of them are having. 

He begins to wonder if there is any way he can put off this conversation, a conversation he isn’t sure he’s ready for yet. He logically knows that he can’t escape this conversation. Stepping into the car is what sealed the deal. 

He just wants it over. Wants this night over. To go to bed and pretend that none of this ever happened. 

Veronica clears her throat. “So… we all know that we’re going to have to talk about this right?” She looks at all of them. No one looks really thrilled to start. “Okay then. I guess I’ll start: how are feeling Jug?”

How does he feel? Kind of lost. Exposed. Vulnerable. Absolutely terrified.

He swallows. “I’m fine.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Archie practically growls. “You’re not alright. You just had a massive panic attack so drop the bullcrap that “I’m fine.” We know you aren’t.”

Betty steps in at this point, always trying to play peacemaker. “What he means, Jug, is that we know you aren’t alright and we just want to know how we can help you.” She looks up at him. “So, please, how are you feeling?”

He doesn’t know how to do this. How to be vulnerable and okay with it. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Veronica claps her hands. “Instead of how you’re feeling, how about you tell us what might of triggered this?”

Archie tries to send her a discreet glare. Key word being tried. 

“What, Archiekins? No point in beating around the bush here.”

Jughead trusts them he really does. 

“Well maybe we should try easing into this?!” Archie whisper yells. 

He does trust them, just doesn’t know how to trust them with this.

“Oh my god Archie, sometimes you just need to bite the bullet.”

He hasn’t told anyone about this. 

“Maybe not in this situation. Betty back me up here.”

Where does he begin? What does he say?

“Wha--.”

“No! B, back me up.”

Can he do this? He can’t do this.

“Are you kidding me?”

He can do this. 

No he can’t

Maybe.

“Shut u--.”

“I don’t like the smell of alcohol.” Jughead interrupts whatever they were fighting about. Silence fills whatever conversation they had left, waiting for him to continue. 

“I don’t like alcohol at all, actually,” he takes a sharp breath. “It, uh, brings up bad memories.”

Betty is the one who responds. “L-Like what, Juggie? From when you’re dad was…?” Nervous glances shoot around the table, but he just can’t stop staring at one spot on the table. He feels shame creep up his face and his eyes tear up. 

“Yeah.” SIlence. Complete silence, save for the sound of Pop’s doing dishes in the back. 

“I still,” he begins, unsure of how to continue. “I have nightmares, you know? From when I was like ten and was hiding from my dad because he drunk.” 

Drop a bomb and immediately take it back. 

“It’s nothing, you know? I-I know my dad loves me and Jellybean. I know he’s sworn off of alcohol but--,” he feels air getting caught in his throat. “He’s promised he would change in the past too. I’m, I’m just waiting for, you know? For when he breaks this promise too.”

And great, now he’s crying again. Emotions suck. 

Archie is the first one to regain his composure. “Have you… talked to him about it?”

Jughead shakes his head. “No, and neither will you. I’m fine. I just need to get over it.”

“Jug,” Veronica says, “This isn’t something you just get over, this is, it’s--.”

“PTSD.” Betty hisses through her teeth. 

He shakes his head. “I’m fine--.”

“No, Jug. This is serious. It’s from when you were a kid and--.”

“You know what,” he looks up at them, “let’s just drop it.”

“What? No!”  
“Yes! Okay, I don-don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He stands up, not sure if he’s intending on leaving or just trying to prove a point. 

“Juggie, please. We just want to talk.”

“I don’t think I can.” He whispers. 

They give him yet another worried look--why do you have to be so selfish. “Jughead, we just want to help.”

He could just run. Run away from the conversation, from them. But, he knows that they won’t leave him alone until he tells them everything. 

He sits back down. 

Archie places his hand on his forearm. “Thank you, man. You can trust us with anything, you know that right?”

Jughead has to bite back a snarky remark. He knows that he can trust them but with this, he isn’t so sure anymore. 

“Hey, Holden Caulfield, tell us what’s going on in that head of yours.” Veronica almost challenges him. 

Deeps breaths. Deep breaths. 

Telling them everything was harder than he expected, and he expected it to derail. He ended up crying a minute into telling them, and had two more panic attacks halfway through his story. 

Unexpectedly, they took in his words understandingly. Never pushing him too far, but never allowing him to hide important details. It felt like an interrogation, but the support that shined through their encouraging words and comforting eyes made him feel a little more at ease. 

Pop’s probably thinks that he’s crazy, considering how many times he’s cried tonight. He half expected him to kick them all out, but instead he came over with a glass of water for Jughead after one of his panic attacks. 

Jughead has also come to the conclusion: panic attacks can eat ass. They fucking suck, but having his friends there really made a difference. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

However much support his friends could give him could not stop the exhaustion hitting his body like a train. Holding his eyes open felt like a chore, and his whole body felt like it was made of lead. 

He doesn’t really remember much after his eyes started slipping shut at their booth at Pop’s. Jughead remembers Archie and Betty helping him stand up. Archie guiding him to his car, and helping him buckle up because Jughead’s hands decided to stop working. 

Remembers, very briefly, the silent ride to Veronica’s apartment. Her sliding out of passenger seat, but not leaving without telling Jughead to get some rest. 

He doesn’t remember anything of the ride to Archie’s house. He woke up to Betty caressing his cheek, kissing him goodbye before she walked across the street to her own house. 

The brunette remembers Archie helping him out of the car and into the house. The redhead helping his friend take off his shoes, and then practically carrying him up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

Archie laid him down on his bed, and stood up saying that he needed to take a shower and that Jughead could go to sleep. Jughead was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh, thank you for making it to the end? i know it's not much but, please, let me know what you think.  
> i'm thinking about continuing this, but let me know what you think! should i continue? 
> 
> have a lovely day (or night idk).


End file.
